A Short Year In France
by TeamGwenee
Summary: Giving up Edith was the hardest thing Rosamund ever had to do. Second chapter from Cora's point of view. Cobert
1. Rosamund

Of all the luck! It had been one time. Just one. And now here she was, spewing up last night's salmon mousse into her chamber pot. Breathing deeply, Rosamund leaned against her bed. Her damp nightgown was stuck to her back and her skin was pale and clammy. She grimaced at the taste in her mouth and cast a look at the glass of water on her bedside table. She wanted to rinse the taste from her mouth, but a part of her refused to let herself move. She almost felt that if she stayed rooted to that one spot, then time would stop altogether. And the minute she began to move, it would start again. And then she would have to acknowledge what was happening to her. What was happening to her body.

This wasn't the first time Rosamund had awoken with vomit in her mouth. Not even the second. And she dare not think back to when she last had her courses. Not since before that night. She had just gotten back from London, having done the Season for roughly the sixth time. And still no offers. Mama had warned her to be less sharp and testy with prospective suitors, completely unaware how hilarious that statement had been coming from her. When they returned to Downton they were greeted with the oh so wonderful news that little Lady Mary had said her first word. Looking at Robert and Cora's ecstatic faces as they gave the news, Rosamund felt no qualms about telling them that 'bab' was not a word.

Not that she need have bothered, even Mama and Papa was cooing over the dark eyed baby. She was unheard.

Dinner that night had been cloying. Mama had made a few 'subtle' jabs about Rosamund's lack of success of finding a suitor, and Robert and Cora entertained the family with updates about Mary. For example the time where Mary grabbed one of Cora's necklaces and broke it. Or when she nearly ate a slug. And of course there was the riveting tale of when they became convinced Mary was choking to death, only to discover she had simply drunk her milk too quickly.

Rather abruptly, Rosamund stood from her seat. Then, claiming a headache, she excused herself. Instead of making her way to bed, she decided to cool herself off by going on a walk in the cool night's air. That was when she bumped into him. Rosamund knew him by sight but not by name. She had occasionally seen him at church and in the village, but that was all. A local farmhand. Not worth her notice really. That said, she rather liked the look of him. Broad shoulders, dark hair and cold blue eyes. His smile had an ironic, sarcastic tilt to it that when directed at her, made Rosamund feel as though the two of them were sharing a joke against the rest of the world.

"Excuse me," she said imperiously, "But what are you doing here?"

"What's it matter to you?" he demanded.

"Quite a lot, actually," Rosamund replied, sticking her chin up, "Seeing as this is my garden,"

"Sorry M'lady, but I was under the impression that this was Lord Grantham's garden. And I rather doubt you're 'im. Course you might have a point if you were Lord Downton's bride, seeing as she paid for this place. But you ain't American so that can't be it,"

Rosamund's lips thinned, "I don't like your impertinence. And I happen to be Lady Rosamund Crawley,"

"Oh? The spinster daughter?"

Rosamund turned white with rage. "Why.. you-" she stuttered.

"Don't fuss yourself," he interrupted, "I'm in the same boat. My girl who works at the house just told me to scram. So I'm left without a special someone either,"

"Maids are not meant to have Gentlemen callers," Rosamund replied coldly.

The man smirked, and waltzed over. He leered down at her arrogantly. "But you are, aren't you? What does it say about you when a kitchen maid can get a man, but Lady Rosamund Crawley, daughter of the Earl of Grantham can't?" He leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "Or may be she can,"

Rosamund refused to remember any more of that night. Refused to admit it even happened. Forget stopping time. Instead she wished she could turn it back. Back before he saw him in the garden. Back before that disastrous Season. Back before Robert had brought him his nimby-pimby baby voiced bride. Just turn everything back! A though it had never happened.

But it had. Rosamund lay a shaking hand over her belly. And here was the undeniable proof.

DA

She had thought it better to come clean. Reveal the truth with some dignity while she still had some. So head tall and shoulders back, she marched into her father's office and gave him the horrific news.

She was pregnant.

Rosamund remained straight back and tall even as her father raged at her. Unflinching even when he hurled his wine glass at the wall, causing the glass to shatter into a thousand sparkling shards. And she kept her dignity even as Papa revealed the news to her horrified mother and shocked brother and sister in law. Through every sharp rebuke and thundering threat, Rosamund stayed cold and aloof. Until eventually, Violet collapsed to the sofa and sighed.

"What is to be done now?" she asked to mid-air.

Rosamund remained quiet as different plans were discussed. Her opinion was unwanted, for it was she who had threatened the family with scandal. Eventually it was decided that Rosamund and Violet would go to France for a few months, for Violet's health, and have the baby there. The child would be adopted.

At this point, Rosamund spoke. "Leave my baby with strangers?" she whispered. No, she wouldn't do it. She had been determined to stay strong and proud through all this, but now she was willing to beg on her knees to avoid such an outcome.

It had been Cora who became Rosamund's unlikely champion. She suggested that they give out that it was she who was pregnant, not Rosamund. Then the Doctor will order her to go abroad for a better climate. After all that, Cora and Robert would return to Downton with a new baby for the nursery. Robert had been skeptical, but Cora had him wrapped round her little finger and he soon agreed.

Rosamund was still not happy, but she saw that it was the best thing she could achieve.

Cora turned to Rosamund with a simpering smile. "That way you can still be the Baby's Aunt," she said, as though expecting to be thanked.

Rosamund longed to give her a slap.

DA

Rosamund's belly had only slightly started to swell by the time the family left for France. With her corset's tightly laced, she had been able to hide her condition from everyone. Outside the family and Dr Clarkson, only Violet's devoted Lady's maid; who had been waiting on her and would be accompanying the family to France, knew the truth.

As the luggage was loaded in the car, Rosamund watched as Cora bade Mary a tearful farewell. Mary was too young to go with them, instead she was to be packed off to Duneagle. Watching Cora give Mary one last embrace, Rosamund found herself surprisingly unwilling to roll her at eyes at the vulgar display of emotions. Instead, a cold dread swept over her.

If handing her baby to relatives for only a few months brought so many tears to Cora's eyes, then what would it do to Rosamund to give away her child indefinitely? Even if Cora was American.

She lay a hand over her rising stomach. Rosamund had not told anyone, but she had felt the baby kick. For the first time it had truly sunk in that she was carrying a child in her belly, as close as two beings could be. And in a few short months, the two would be parted in a whirlwind of blood and tears.

DA

Whenever Rosamund had thought of France, she naturally assumed Paris. Instead, the family hid themselves away under a false name in the countryside. The tiny village was called something she couldn't spell, and the house they had rented was small and poky compared to Downton, with only a maid, a cook and a handyman. None of whom spoke any English. Both her Papa and Mama complained continuously.

Not that Robert and Cora seemed to mind. Far from the stifling confines of Downton, the two basked in their love for each other. There was a small, isolated beach next to the house, where Cora and Robert would frolic bare footed. From her window, Rosamund watched the pair build sandcastles and jump the waves. Seeing the two of them together made something inside her burn.

Rosamund had overheard them once. They had been lying together on the beach. Sand was in their hair and their clothes were in a frightful state. They had been talking about what to name the baby. Her baby. She thought of the way Cora eyed her growing stomach and asked to feel whenever the baby kicked. Circling her like a vulture.

Rosamund knew she was being unfair. Robert and especially Cora had been kinder to her than necessary and sometimes she felt guilty about the way the sight of them made her want to wretch in disgust. But then she remembered the loving touches they exchanged, the look of bliss they had in sharing each other's company. The beautiful child they had waiting for them back home and that when this would all be over, they would have another baby to fuss and pet. Whereas she would return to being the tiresome spinster.

And Rosamund knew that Robert and Cora should be the last ones complaining about life's unfairness.

DA

Through an exhausted fog, Rosamund watched as the midwife took the bloody, screaming baby and wrapped it in a towel. Too tired, and in too much pain to protest, she saw Cora cradle the roaring infant in her arms and leave the room.

Two days later; as Rosamund lay recovering, Lord Grantham, Robert and Cora left for Downton.

"Who's nursing the baby?" Rosamund asked her mother listlessly from her bed. She had hoped she would be allowed to do it, even though she knew that this way would hurt less.

Violet did not look up from her embroidery.

"A local woman will be accompanying them to Paris, where they will meet the wet nurse they hired. We leave for Paris the day after tomorrow, where we will take to opportunity to 'soak up the ambiance' for two weeks. We will be back in time for her christening,"

 _'Her!"_

Rosamund rolled over to look at her mother. "It's a girl?" she croaked.

Violet paused, and looked Rosamund in the eye. Then, in a surprisingly gentle voice she said, "A lovely, healthy girl. With gold hair and brown eyes. They decided to call her Edith,"

"Edith," Rosamund repeated.

"Lady Edith Crawley, second daughter to Lord and Lady Downton, the future Earl and Countess of Grantham," Violet squeezed Rosamund's hand. "And it must remain that way,"

DA

Paris was wonderful. The museums were wonderful. The food was wonderful. The hotel was wonderful. Everything was simply wonderful! And Rosamund smiled and smiled and smiled until it felt as though her cheeks would burst.

"Tiresome, isn't it?" Rosamund heard someone murmur over her shoulder.

She and Violet were listening to a rather dull lecture given by their guide about the architecture of the palace they were visiting. And though her cheeks remained in a firm, polite smile, Rosamund's mind had begun to wander.

The stranger smiled politely. "Marmaduke Painswick," he said by way of introduction.

Rosamund nodded back. "Lady Rosamund Crawley,"

It transpired Mr Painswick was staying at a hotel close to their own. Over the next few days he began to squire both she and Violet about, escorting them from one amusement to the next.

"He's not quite what we hoped for you, of course," Violet noted, "I think his grandfather was a clerk. And a Banker! Of all things. Still, at this point we have no choice of being picky. You could do worse and he's far from poor. You will want for nothing,"

Rosamund let out a harsh bark of laughter at this. Want for nothing! When the only thing she wanted was curled up in a bassinet an ocean away, forever tied to somebody else. Still, she raised no objections when Violet invited Mr Painswick to stay at Downton for a week on his return. She liked him as much as she could like anything at that moment. And maybe it would be better for her to move to London and live her own life, rather than wasting away at Downton, watching somebody else raise her child.

"And other children are likely to follow," Violet added.

Because of course, all children are replaceable.

DA

Back in time for the Christening, just as Violet had said. The house teemed with servants, arranging flowers and setting up for the receptions afterwards. Rosamund could not stand the activity and constant hustle and bustle and so she remained in her bedroom whenever she could. And at all costs she avoided the nursery.

Yet, on the morning of the Christening, Rosamund found herself leaning in the Nursery doorway. She watched as Cora bounced little Edith up and down, trying to soothe the wailing baby. Instinctively, Rosamund said "Can I hold her?"

Cora looked up in surprise, but to Rosamund's slight shock she agreed.

"Do you want to go to your Auntie Rosamund?" Cora cooed.

 _'Auntie Rosamund'._

With Edith safely nestled in her arms, Rosamund began to gently swing the baby from side to side. Slowly, Edith calmed down and nodded to sleep. In her white lace robe and with her golden curls, she looked like a little doll. And yet she was warm and soft. Flesh and blood. Her flesh and blood. Rosamund made her way to the window, her back to Cora so that she would not see the tears Rosamund was furiously blinking back.

"I think that I will go check on Mary," Cora announced, before going off in search of her eldest daughter, leaving the two together. Rosamund heard the door shut behind her.

"Hello little one," she cooed, "I'm your Aunt Rosa- I'm your mother. Robert and Cora will be your Mama and Papa and they will take good care of you. They love you very much my darling. But I'm your mother. Never forget that. And no one," Rosamund whispered furiously, "Will ever love you as much as I do,"

And with that, Rosamund lay a tender, lingering kiss on Edith's forehead. Then, she left the nursery to find Robert or Cora, and give them back her baby.


	2. Cora

A'N:This chapter is from Cora's point of view. I felt that as Rosamund had such a harsh opinion of her, it would be best if we saw things from Cora's prospective. Quick note about titles, Robert is referred to as Lord Downton due to being a Viscount, his father still being alive.

They had gotten on alright when she first arrived, she and Rosamund. True, Rosamund could be just a bit snippy and sarcastic, like her Mama, but they were friends. Good friends. In fact, at the beginning Rosamund was the only one Cora felt truly welcomed by. Robert had been awkward, Mama cold and Lord Grantham; while nice enough, was a gruff old thing who buried himself in his study.

It was around the time Cora became pregnant that things grew cold between them. Four Seasons now, Rosamund had four Seasons and still no offers. And as Rosamund grew older it seemed as though she was on a one way trip to spinsterhood.

Yet Cora; beautiful, lovely Cora, had made a triumphant match in her very first Season. She had only been in London a short two months before becoming engaged to Lord Downton.

And now she was pregnant, carrying the possible future heir to the estate. The hesitant love that had been growing between Robert and Cora bloomed. Even when Mary turned out to be a girl, she was so beautiful the entire household could not help being besotted. And so Cora became a beloved wife and a doting mother as well as the future Countess and saviour of the estate. Whereas Rosamund, not a wife nor a mother, was becoming a bit of a drag.

Cora found the only thing she could do for Rosamund was not pity her. Rosamund was extremely proud and to be pitied by an 'upstart American' would be the final straw. She tried to be friendly to Rosamund, engage her in conversation and tell her jokes. But behind every forced smile lay a cold, hard resentment that Cora would have been blind not to see.

Cora wished she could help Rosamund, but she couldn't see how.

DA

The opportunity presented itself. Cora had spotted the look on Rosamund's face. The crack in her voice. Cora could only imagine the horror Rosamund felt at losing her child. To trust her baby's fate to strangers and to be able to do nothing but hope for the best. To never know if it was happy and safe. Cora almost gagged at the thought of the same thing happening to Mary.

The words slipped out.

"Robert and I will take the child," Cora announced calmly.

Eight disbelieving eyes swivelled towards her. She knew her family well enough that she knew appealing to their maternal feelings would not do, so she pointed out that this way only a few members of the family would know. And they needn't worry about the child making things awkward for them in the future. The threat of having a bastard child turning up at Downton and kicking up a fuss was enough to settle things for Lord and Lady Grantham. And Robert only required a puppy dog look from Cora to agree.

Cora made her way over to Rosamund to reassure her that this way she could always be in the baby's life. Have a say in how the child was raised and just generally be there for it.

"That way you can still be the baby's Aunt,"

In hindsight, Cora recognised she deserved the glare Rosamund sent her. She could probably have put that a bit better.

DA

Saying goodbye to Mary had been torture. To not see her baby girl for such a long time. She had broken down in tears three times on the voyage over. Robert, equally distraught but slightly more restrained, had sought to cheer her up. He told her of all the places they could visit. The sights they would see. He made jokes about eating snails and vomiting them off the Eiffel Tower.

They were sat together on the deck. The sun had set and everyone else had returned to their cabins. The two were completely alone, curled up on a bench. They sat there, listening to the gentle sound of waves. Before them lay nothing but unending sea and stars. Cora buried her head in Robert's shoulder and smiled. Robert's arms tightened around her.

"Just think," he whispered into her ear, "When we go home, we'll have a new baby to take home with us,"

Cora beamed up at him. She could not deny, the thought of a new baby made her more excited every day. Mary was growing so fast now. And though she delighted in every change, Cora secretly mourned the loss of the little girl who would curl up in her arms and sleep like a kitten. Now she was older, it was clear that Mary hated being held.

Cora loved being a mother. Having been spared the messier side of things, all Cora had to do was pet and play with her child. That said, when Mary had earache, it was Cora and not the Nurse who had stayed up with Mary all night. Calming her and singing her lullabies. Cora could not bear the thought of her daughter hurting and finding comfort in someone else.

Despite Mama's tuts and Papa's raised eyebrows, Cora vowed to be always be there for Mary. Not to shuttle her off to the nursery once their hour a day was over. And Cora was determined to do the same for this little one as well.

DA

The house was beautiful. Small, but Cora preferred that. It was cosier, more intimate. And she and Robert found they could do whatever they liked. They were so cut off from the world, they felt less need to concern themselves with propriety and etiquette. It could have been a second honeymoon, just the two of them. Lord and Lady Grantham planted themselves in the study and Drawing room respectively, whereas Rosamund closeted herself in her bedroom. She wallowed in shadows, only ever emerging for meals.

Most of Robert and Cora's days were spent on the beach. Out in the sun. Robert had taken it upon himself to teach Cora to swim. The tiny cove was surrounded by two cliffs, where the two of them would go on long, lazy walks. And when the tide was low, they explored the caves cut into the rock.

They indulged themselves in seaside picnics and secret moonlight swims. And despite missing Mary, Cora treasured the time spent with her husband. Their days together were so precious, sometimes Cora felt as though bliss would carry her off like the tides of the sea.

But then she would look back at the house. And from her window, Rosamund would be staring down at them. Cora's heart would catch in her throat at the look in Rosamund's eyes. And odd combination of wistfulness and pure malevolence.

A part of Cora wanted to scream out "Sorry!" Sorry for taking your child. Sorry for being happy when you are depressed. Sorry for having love when you are happy.

But she couldn't. What good would that do?

So instead, Cora did the only sensible thing she could. She ignored it. Pretended that there was no reason for Rosamund to be happy. Who would have thought it would take a trip to France to make Cora more English?

DA

She was beautiful. Even covered in blood and red from screaming, she was one of the most beautiful things Cora had ever seen. Her hair was red. She wasn't expecting that. And she was smaller than Mary was. Tiny in fact.  
"Look at her Robert," Cora sighed. Robert peered over Cora's shoulder, his eyes lighting up in delight as he took in his new daughter. Cora reluctantly handed the baby over to the midwife to be cleaned and rested her head against Robert's shoulder.

"What do you want to call her?" Robert asked into her hair.

Cora stiffened in Robert's arms. Of course they would choose the baby's name. They were her parents. And yet Cora could not help that this one thing should be something Rosamund should be allowed to do.

It had felt so cold and clinical, the way they took the baby before Rosamund even had a chance to look at her. And yet, Cora had held Mary in her arms and named her. She gave Mary her first feed. They had hired a local woman who had just given birth to feed the baby until they met with their wet nurse. Rosamund would not even get to feed her.

But as cold as it sounded, it was better that way. Cora knew that to feed and love her child, only to hand her over, would be agony. Taking the baby before Rosamund got too attached was the cleanest, most painless way to do things.

"A nice, clean break," Violet had summarised.

Now washed, dried and back in her arms, Cora could see that the baby's hair was a reddish gold. Her skin was creamy and her nose had a slight hook to it. A Roman nose. 'A proper aristocratic nose,' Cora noted, 'mother would be thrilled.'

Robert and Cora made their way over to the sofa. Robert reached over to stroke the little girl on the cheek. She had tired herself out from screaming and was now slumbering peacefully in the crook of Cora's arms.

"Names?" he asked.

DA

They had talked about several names on the beach. There was 'Martha', for Cora's mother, or 'James', if it was a boy. But Martha was too close to Mary and obviously James wasn't suitable. Privately, Cora considered suggesting Rosamund, or even Rose, but kept quiet about it.

They had asked Papa about it before they left for Paris. Cora leaned forward to show Lord Grantham his knew grandchild and despite the baby's parentage, his eyebrows briefly un-knitted in pleasure, and there was a trace of a smile underneath his mustache. They made sure to ask him, as he had waited until after the Christening to inform them that 'Mary' actually meant 'Bitterness'.

Lord Grantham gruffly mentioned a few names. 'Lucy', for light or 'Amy' for beloved.

Cora, a fan of 'Little Women', was leaning towards Amy. Especially as Amy March had longed for a Roman nose herself. But then Lord Grantham had said 'Edith' for 'Blessed in war'. Cora liked to interpret it as triumph through suffering. Growing and gaining from troubles. Cora picked that name, hoping it would prove prophetic. For both the child and her mother.

DA

Edith quickly proved to be a colicky baby. She was up all night, screaming, the entire voyage back to England. Cora and Robert would take turns walking her up and down the deck. Edith had been fussing for three consecutive hours and Cora was tempted to throw herself off the ledge and into the cool, calm waters. Or at least hand the baby off to the Wet Nurse. Still, she stuck it through. For some reason, Cora felt obligated to being the one to comfort Edith. She had taken her on and so she would be the one to get her back to sleep.

It had struck her that little Edith did not have a drop of her blood in her. Cora didn't carry Edith for nine months. She didn't go through child birth to have her and she couldn't breast feed her. But _this_ she could do. She could soothe her and hold her and put her back to sleep. She had to. She had sworn to make Edith one of her own and so would keep her word.

Fifteen minutes later; during which time she had nearly walked over to ledge, Cora was back in bed and Edith was the wet nurse's problem.

To be fair, she had been up three hours.

DA

Mary scowled and poked Edith on the nose.

"Don't like it," she muttered.

Robert and Cora exchanged amused glances.

"Come now Mary, don't you like your little sister?"

"No!" Mary stamped her foot.

She had grown so much since they had been away. Mary had taken her first step. Cora wasn't there. Mary had said her first word (not 'Bab'). Cora wasn't there. Cora was surprised Mary even remembered them.

Robert bent to pick up Mary, who squirmed and scowled. "Now don't sulk Sweetie, we went all the way to France to get her,"

Mary wriggled out of his arms. "Send her back," she insisted. She went to toddle out when Robert called out "Wait!". She turned back and glared at him.

"Don't you want your present?" Robert asked.

"Presents?" Mary wandered back, smiling prettily. "For me?"

Cora nodded. "Yes poppet, for you,"

Mary lowered her voice to a whisper and prodded the sleeping baby. "Not _her?"_

Happily playing with her new doll, Mary gave no further thought to the baby. But when Cora asked if she and Edith could join in, Mary vehemently shook her head and edged away, eyeing the baby suspiciously.

Cora sighed and went to join Robert. He lay a comforting hand on her knee.

"I'm sure they will best friends," he grimaced as Mary pointedly turned her back, "Eventually,"

DA

Cora felt Rosamund's eyes boring into the back of her head. Despite the feeling of Rosamund's red hot glare, Cora couldn't help beaming. Edith slept through most of the Christening, looking sweet and angelic in her white lace gown. Mary was good for the most part, but had to be taken outside for a ride in her perambulator by Nanny.

Edith had been with Cora for nearly a month now, and all the papers said she was legally hers. But standing there in Church, with Edith in her arms, she felt as though she were truly claiming Edith as her own.

Did Rosamund think the same? Rosamund did not even look at Edith properly until today. And yet, did she to feel as though this were the final tie to be severed between the two? Did Rosamund regret agreeing to the plan? Guilt swirled in Cora's stomach. To what extent did Rosamund agree in the first place? She raised no protests, but Cora had seen and ignored the anguish on Rosamund's face whenever the baby was discussed. Did Rosamund want to take Edith back? Cora's arms tightened possessively round her little girl. Even if she did, it was too late now. Edith was Cora's, and she would stay that way.

DA

They found themselves back in the Church again, shortly after. In her ivory and gold gown and with her striking red curls, Rosamund made a stunning bride. Cora could not deny the relief she felt at seeing Rosamund happily married and, she had to admit, away from Downton.

Rosamund to, seemed happier in London. She blossomed in the city. She loved the social whirl in which she became ensconced in. The theatre, the concerts, the museums ad the fashion. Watching the two of them together, Cora determined that there was genuine affection between Rosamund and Marmaduke. They didn't kiss and hold hands like she and Robert, but they both smiled whenever they saw the other. Cora spotted the sly grins exchanged between the two and their private jokes.

That was what Cora tried to focus on. Rosamund's stylish clothes, radiant smile and dashing husband. And in doing so, she managed to ignore the hurt that flared in Rosamund's eyes every time Edith would look beaming up at Cora, throw out her arms and cry "Mama!"

Well, almost managed to ignore it.

DA

Edith was four years old when she was struck down with pneumonia. She lay in bed, coughing and shivering despite the mountain of sheets and blankets heaped upon her. Her tiny body heaved and her skin was clammy with sweat.

The Doctor had called, and left instructions on her care. It was a severe case, but Cora couldn't stand the thought of her baby stuck in a hospital. A nurse stayed, but Cora let her do as little as possible, determined to do everything possible for Edith.

Mary was only five, but she to her delight she got to sleep in the Princess Carolina room. She had to share with Nanny and baby Sybil, but it was far grander than the nursery where Edith remained. Even if it was only for a few weeks.

Cora took Mary's place in the nursery. She stayed by Edith's bed, day and night. Mopping her forehead. Reading to her and singing her lullabies. She spooned broth down her throat and forced down her medicine. During the day, Robert would give Cora a chance to rest and keep an eye on Edith. But it was Cora who devoted herself to caring for her. She only slept a few hours at a time and rarely moved from the nursery.

On the third night, Edith's temperature soared. Cora awoke with her nap with a start, to see Edith drenched with sweat and muttering incoherently. Checking her temperature, she saw it was over one hundred degrees. In a panic, she cried out desperately for the nurse, for Robert. Cora tried to stay calm and cooed softly, bathing Edith's sticky head. The nurse said the Doctor had to be called immediately. Pratt was sent to fetch him and all Cora and Robert could do was wait in terror for him to arrive. Much to their surprise, Mama and Papa came to join their vigil.

When Doctor Clarkson arrived, he asked for them to step outside for a moment. They sat in the day nursery in total silence. Robert kept Cora firmly pinned to his side as she sobbed into his dressing gown.

"We ought to call Rosamund," Lord Grantham said eventually.

The rest of the family shot him shocked looks. No one had ever mentioned Rosamund's link to Edith ever since they brought her back from France. They had upheld the ancient British tradition of pretending nothing was wrong. The British had made many great contributions to society. Shakespeare, Austen, Yorkshire Pudding. But hiding uncomfortable emotions and pretending awkward truths do not exist was undeniably the greatest one. One that Cora had found incredibly convenient and Lord Grantham had rigorously upheld. And yet here he was, actually eluding to _that_ topic.

Cora knew he was right. She knew Rosamund needed to know if Edith was going to... She couldn't say it. Cora had promised to take Edith and look after her. She had assured Rosamund that she could continue seeing Edith. And yet if the worst happened, Rosamund would never see Edith again. Cora would never see her again. Cora stifled a gag.

Doctor Clarkson emerged. "Her fever has broken," he announced.

"What?" Robert demanded, standing abruptly.

"Her fever is going down, I daresay you will continue to see some improvement in her condition from this point," Doctor Clarkson explained.

"Oh thank God," Violet cried in a uncharacteristically emotional voice.

Cora did not say anything. She brushed past the Doctor and stumbled towards her baby's bedside, taking her small, wet hand into her own. Edith's breathing was easier and she was sleeping comfortably. Cora lay a hand on Edith's still warm cheek and sighed. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she thanked the Gods for sparing her child. Because no matter what, Cora couldn't lose Edith. Not now, nor ever.


End file.
